


To Be Loved

by CirrusGrey



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Episode Related, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending, I'd use my Martin returns tag but that's just canon at this point, M/M, Miscommunication, episode 159 spoilers, rating is for swears, technically this is a one-shot and can be read on its own but it complements the linked fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 15:20:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,596
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21199817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CirrusGrey/pseuds/CirrusGrey
Summary: SPOILERS FOR MAG 159!!!Jon and Martin go home.





	To Be Loved

**Author's Note:**

> _...I'd rather be the one who loves than to be loved and never even know._  
~ Josh Ritter, [Snow is Gone](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NJZiojEGuy0)
> 
> Suggested pre-reading: [I've Flown a Long Way](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21199712)

Martin's arm is warm around Jon's back, and Jon's is wrapped securely around his waist. They don't need the point of contact for stability or in order to not get separated; neither of them is stumbling, and the fog is thinning so it's easy enough to not lose each other in it. Neither of them lets go, though.

It's quiet, the only sounds being the wind, the waves, the crunch of sand under their feet, and their own breath, whooshing in and out of lungs that have been asked far too much in this dreary place. Jon's legs still ache from running, and he can see the tear tracks glistening on Martin's cheeks from his sobs of relief when Jon finally got through to him. Jon's thoughts are quiet too, exhaustion dampening them to one muted refrain.

_ I really loved you, you know? _

It's the only thing that circles through his head as they walk.  _ I loved you... _ Past tense firmly in place. 

He had known it was coming, honestly he had. It's not like he thought Martin would- he wouldn't have  _ expected  _ him to-

He can't blame Martin for not feeling the same, not after everything that's happened and how much they have both changed.

And Martin is  _ here. _ Pressed against Jon's side, and they're going  _ home. _ It's more than he could have hoped for.

The ground grows firmer as they turn away from the shore, hard-packed sand giving way to dune grass that stretches up and away from the water. Martin leans heavier into Jon's shoulder, letting himself be led out of this place. There's a comforting solidity to him; he feels like the only real thing in this world of drifting mists and shifting sand.

For a moment, back there, Jon had thought - he had  _ really  _ thought - that he had lost him.

And then Martin had smiled, and said "I  _ see  _ you," and... and Jon doesn't care about the past tense. He really,  _ truly  _ doesn't, because Martin is  _ here, _ and he seems to be glad that Jon is here, and to want to be friends, and at the moment-

In this moment, right now, the friendship of Martin Blackwood is all Jon could ever want from the world. It's more than he deserves, really, after the way he's treated him - the paths he's pushed him onto through his own self-destructive tendencies and all the support he never offered. And maybe it's true, maybe they  _ don't  _ really know each other - but by god, is Jon determined to learn.

Sand shifts to dunes, dunes shift to gravel, and gravel shifts to cold stone floors as the grey light bleeds from the world. Jon fumbles in his pocket for his phone, turning on the torch and shining it around the tunnel. They're no longer in the Panopticon; whatever Elias's plans are - whatever it is he's gained from this bet with Lukas - they won't be finding out immediately. The torch catches on something on the wall, a brief flash of white against the dark stone. Closer inspection proves it to be a chalk arrow.

"I know this place." Jon's voice comes out rough, and he finds himself startled at the sudden sound after so long in silence. Martin jumps a little, arm curling instinctively tighter around Jon. "I left this mark when I was first exploring down here. We're close to the trapdoor."

"G-" Martin's voice chokes off, still broken with tears. He clears his throat and begins again. "Good. At least throwing yourself into danger back then has had  _ some  _ positive consequences."

A laugh forces its way out of Jon; warmth blossoms in his chest. "Yeah. And you wanted to stop me." He hopes Martin understands the teasing note in his voice. He's too tired to pay much attention to how his tone is coming across. "God, I never thought I'd look back on those as the good old days. Back when- when I thought  _ tea  _ was a subtle threat."

"It was a subtle something." Jon's not sure if he's supposed to hear that; Martin's not looking at him, and there's a faint, amused smile tugging at his lips.

"I guess I wasn't listening properly." Martin just shrugs, shaking his head a bit. He doesn't respond. After a moment Jon looks away, trying to focus back on the tunnels. 

_ I really loved you... _

The main question on his mind is: what's better for Martin at this point? To know that Jon finally returns his feelings, and they just have horrible timing but it's fine because at least they can be friends? Or to think it was always hopeless love, and be content in the fact that he's finally given up on something that was only ever going to bring him grief?

Jon, personally, would prefer to know, but... Martin's different, and Jon really  _ doesn't  _ know him well enough to make this judgement. Maybe he  _ would  _ prefer ignorance, and Jon doesn't want to take that away from him. 

...on the other hand, maybe Martin deserves to know he is loved, even if it is the tragic, star-crossed sort. 

And maybe Jon should save these questions for later, because Martin's pulling him to a halt in the middle of the tunnel and he really ought to pay attention to what he's saying.

"Before we get out of here," Martin nods along the tunnel; they're close to the trapdoor. "I know it's probably going to be chaos out there. So, while we're still down here and it's quiet, I just wanted to say..." he leans forward, enveloping Jon in a hug. His breath is warm against Jon's ear when he speaks.  _ "Thank you. _ You didn't have to come after me, but... thank you. For doing it. Risking that, for me."

"Martin-" Jon's voice catches. Martin fits so well into his arms, warm and soft and  _ real, _ and... and Jon has so much he wants to tell him. Not the least of which is  _ I would risk the entire world for you, not just my own life, because a world without you is not worth saving. _ But also... I'm sorry. And: I'll do better in the future. And a thousand other little words he has never given Martin before, to try and ameliorate, in some small way, all the hurt he has caused. Because this is  _ his fault. _ He pushed Martin into this, not intentionally, completely unaware of what he was doing, and that very inattention is the reason why- why Martin almost- 

Jon has so much he needs to say, and it all tangles in his throat, fighting for the chance to be said first. But the thing that pushes its way out, that fights past the tightness in his chest and forces its way out into the air as he holds Martin close like his life depends upon it, is-

"I love you."

And- well, shit. He didn't mean to say that, true though it is.

Martin goes still in his arms, and Jon has just enough time to apply a few more choice curse words to himself before he is being pushed away. Martin keeps his hands on Jon's shoulders, eyes searching his face with an unreadable expression. 

"I'm sorry." It's all Jon can say. His own arms are still half-embracing Martin; he tightens his fingers in his soft sweater, irrationally terrified that Martin will disappear again if he lets go. 

"Jon... do you mean it?" Martin's voice is soft, broken around the edges; Jon notes, in a distant way, a slight trembling in his fingers. The rest of his attention is fixed entirely on Martin's face, and the tears beginning to gather in the corners of his eyes. 

"More than anything I've ever said. I'm sorry."

Martin laughs, choking on a sob.  _ "Why?" _

"Why wouldn't I love you? You're..." He's  _ Martin,  _ and all that comes with it. Kind, and soft, and gentle; determined, hard edges hiding behind his smile; trusting, and trustworthy, and loyal and deserving loyalty in return; he likes spiders, and Jon would have never thought that would be endearing but god damn it if Martin doesn't make it so. He is tea, and warm blankets pulled over your shoulders while you sleep, and sarcasm sharp enough to cut, and a world of contradictions that Jon isn't even close to figuring out yet. He is  _ Martin. _

"No, I mean... why are you sorry?"

He is Martin, and leave it to Martin to not understand why he deserves an apology. “Because I’ve hurt you so much, and now… I’m still doing it. I drove you into the choices that led you to- this is all my fault. And now here I am saying- when it’s too late and that’s just going to hurt you more and I didn’t  _ mean  _ to tell you, to put this on you, but now I have and-”

“What do you mean, too late?” Martin’s words come out sharp as a knife. “Why's it too late? What’s happened?”

“I…” Jon blinks at him in confusion. “You said…” 

“Jon.” His voice is firm. “What’s happened? What’s waiting for us in the Archives that means this-” he shakes Jon slightly, “is too late?”

“N-nothing, I mean… chaos and death, probably, but that’s not- that’s not why this is too late, you said-” 

“What? What did I say?” 

“…You said that you loved me.”

Martin relaxes his grip on Jon’s shoulders, pulling back slightly with a confused look. “Oh.” He frowns. “Yeah, I did. I meant it, too.”

“Exactly.”

“But, Jon,” Martin shakes his head, laughing a bit. “Why does that mean this is too late? Isn’t that, you know, an encouragement?”

“No! You, you said-” Jon tries to pull away; Martin doesn’t let him. “You said you  _ loved  _ me. Past tense. Loved, not love.” He’s breathing harshly, and he can't meet Martin's eyes. He really,  _ really  _ doesn't want to be doing this right now. He just got Martin  _ back, _ and they're fighting  _ already,  _ and-

"I did, didn't I?" Martin's voice is soft; he lifts one hand, turning Jon's face toward his own. "Oh, Jon..."

"I'm sorry." He doesn't even know what he's apologizing for, anymore. He's just- tired. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Martin's thumb brushes gently over his cheek. "I didn't think how that would have sounded, to you. But- that's not what I meant. It was just... I thought you were  _ dead, _ Jon. I thought _ I _ was dead. I thought... I  _ knew  _ I was never going to see you again. And- and that's what you say, when someone's gone forever, isn't it? I... loved him."

His eyes are soft and warm, and he's smiling; it's a sad smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Martin, I was  _ right there, _ in front of you."

"I know, Jon. But I... I didn't see you."

Jon closes his eyes, turning to press his face against Martin's hand. He's going to start crying any minute now, he can feel it. But he fights past the tightness in his throat to speak.

"I love you."

"I love you too."

Jon takes a deep breath, the first tears starting to force their way past his closed eyelids. It is painful, the love he is feeling: fear and hope and relief and regrets and protectiveness,  _ fierce  _ protectiveness that will see the world burn if anyone  _ dares  _ to threaten Martin again, and Jon does not know what to do with it all except clutch at Martin's sweater and try to hold back his sobs. 

Martin's hand is still against his face, his other arm drawing him closer into what Jon assumes will be another hug, and-

And then Martin is kissing him, and Jon's never quite understood the passion and desire people put behind the action but by god does the emotional symbolism pack a punch. He kisses back desperately, clinging to Martin with everything he has.

Martin keeps him close even when they break apart for breath, holding him, anchoring him, and Jon has lost the battle with tears by this point but Martin has as well, so his own breakdown is not his primary concern at the moment. 

"Hey, hey, it's okay." Jon's never been the best at comforting, but he reaches out to brush away Martin's tears even as his own continue to fall. "I'm here.  _ We're  _ here, we're alright, Martin."

"Says-" Martin sniffs, wiping halfheartedly at Jon's face with his sleeve. "Says the guy who started crying first."

A weak laugh forces its way out of Jon; he shakes his head, leaning in to rest it on Martin's shoulder and winding his arms around his waist. 

"I think it's long overdue, to be honest."

"Yeah." Martin breathes out shakily. "Yeah, for both of us, probably."

"I love you so much." Its not a good response to what Martin said; it's barely a response at all. But there is such a relief in saying it, knowing it will not be rejected or dismissed. 

"You too, Jon. More than I can even say."

They stand for a while in the silence, simply holding each other. It's very dark. Jon's phone still has the torch on, of course, but he'd put it in his breast pocket while they walked so his hands could be free, and at the moment that's pressed close against Martin's chest. 

Ordinarily Jon would be bothered by not being able to see, but right now he doesn't need eyes to be aware of the important things: Martin's arms around him, his breath soft against his neck, his heartbeat thundering along in counterpoint to Jon's own. Jon breathes in, slow and deep, and presses his face into Martin's shoulder. Martin's hand comes up to gently card through his hair, and its ridiculous, Jon knows, that Martin's comforting  _ him  _ when Martin was the one who was almost lost. Still. Jon's pretty sure that taking on the role of caretaker helps Martin cope with stress, so he doesn't try to stop him.

Jon's not sure how much time passes before the tears finally stop. Eventually, though, he is able to get his breathing back under control and lift his head from Martin's shoulder. He pulls back far enough that his phone lights up the small space between them, and Martin smiles at him in the dim light, his own eyes finally dry.

"Definitely overdue."

All Jon can do in response to that is laugh, and kiss him again. It's less desperate this time, softer and infinitely affectionate. Martin's hand is still carding gently through Jon's hair, and it is a sensation he thinks he never wants to stop. 

It does, of course, and they both take a half-step back and avoid each other's eyes, pretending that they're not blushing. 

"So, uh," Jon clears his throat. "Should we, um..."

"We should get back to the Archives." Martin sweeps one arm out, gesturing down the tunnel. "Lead the way. Chaos and death await."

And Jon's perspective must be really skewed at this point, because he actually laughs at that; but Martin smiles too, so maybe it really was a joke.

He reaches out a hand, wiggling his fingers slightly, and Martin takes it in his own and squeezes. 

"I'm with you, Jon. Don't worry. Whatever's out there, we'll face it together."

"I know." And he does. He knows, and  _ Knows, _ and would trust even if he didn't. "Are you ready?"

Martin nods. 

"Alright, then." Jon takes a deep breath, turning back toward the trapdoor. Martin falls into step beside him as he walks, hands entwined in a gentle reminder that they are not alone. "Let's go see what's left of the Archives."


End file.
